


Everything Is

by newtheglue



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Colors, Happy Trick? sorry I only know Pain and Suffering, It's happy for like two paragraphs sorry, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Overuse of the word red, Sad, You Have Been Warned, overuse of commas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:17:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtheglue/pseuds/newtheglue
Summary: Nick’s world was painted in shades of red.





	Everything Is

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 20 minutes and my sleep-deprived brain said "you should post this" so please do not fight me ily

Nick’s world was painted in shades of red. Scarlet, cherry, and burgundy among thousands of minuscule variations. Other colors paled in comparison, like the grotesque green of the infected, or the cold blue of his mother’s eyes.

He remembered, before the dam, that he’d lived in a colorful world.  
  
Before everything, he’d been addicted to white, sometimes cream-colored, powders. Nothing else had really mattered, until the dead started walking. Then ironically enough, the powders seemed too clean, too pristine, to exist in the world of muddy, dirty hues.  
  
He had hated the rust-orange of the scorching desert beneath his feet, sand swirling around him as night fell. And as much as he hated the orange, he despised the cold indigo of the night sky as he pillowed his head on his backpack, nothing but the sound of insects chirping to keep him company.  
  
The pale green uniforms of the men at the border had made him nauseous. Every time one of them entered the room, they took someone who never came back- well, in the lifelike sense anyway.  
  
He grew a tolerance, though, later, at the Otto Ranch. The sickly, mossy color had softened to a calming olive color. He’d begun to don the clothes himself, finding a sense of belonging in them, even if his uniform was stained with crimson splotches at the end of every day.  
  
He remembered the gentle blue of the night at the bazaar. Everything blurred, and shifted- the blood he’d smeared onto Troy’s face taking on a strange violet shade. The sky seemed warmer than the nights he’d been alone, more inviting, but for a reason Nick couldn’t place, he was more drawn the the blue in Troy’s eyes.  
  
He recalled the soft honey color of Troy’s hair, pressed against his forehead, or curled into Nick’s hand. The rosey-pink shade of his lips, pressed against Nick’s. The slightly tanned color of Troy’s skin, the purple of his healing bruise, the _ridiculous_ white of his smile, Troy, Troy, Troy-  
  
The steely-gray of a hammer, coated with red.  
  
His own cheeks, flushed red with anger. He'd screamed at his mother. Because _Troy_ -  
  
The murky, brick red of the water, carrying him to a destination he didn’t care to reach.  
  
He'd still wiped the dark blood of the dead on his face and shirt. He was in pain - bone-deep, _agonizing_ pain - but he couldn't seem to find an injury.  _Why, why, why-_  
  
His tears dripped red onto his hands.

His mother, Strand, Alicia, covered in blood _(whose?)_ and half-afraid of him snapping. He didn't. He was tired.  
  
The deep maroon of the turnips, hidden behind walls of gray.  
  
The blush of a young girl, a smile of white,  a dusting of brown freckles, and large, cartoonish green eyes.

The angry red of losing his home, losing himself, losing his-  
  
The dark cherry-red of blood, of revenge, and a man’s body impaled on antlers.

A sharp pain, his fingers touching his chest, covered in scarlet. _Charlie?_

Falling, falling, falling.

Screaming, not his. Gasping, maybe his. Crimson blood staining the grass, _his_.

_Wait-_

_No-_

_Charlie-_

_Alicia-_

The blue-bonnet in his hand. _Blue, blue, blue_. _Mom_. _Troy_. 

Then-

 _Black_.

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I always write Nick in weird, choppy sentences? I don't know.  
> Yes, Nick had his some of his colorful world back when Charlie showed up, but it was taken away. I'll fight her.  
> Yes, I implied that Madison died. I'm so sorry for that.  
> Also the last few parts (Wait-, No-, Charlie-, Alicia-) is my way of saying that despite his death, Nick's story wasn't over. I know Frank wanted to leave, and I was fine with that. I have no issue with why they killed Nick, I'm just bitter over how they did it.  
> Also... Nick is living in a happy, colorful after life now. He's with Troy, Travis, his dad, and Chris (Possibly his mom). The only red he sees now is in the little garden he has, where he's planted roses. He's at peace, and he's never been happier. :)


End file.
